


Touch

by ysse_writes



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-09
Updated: 2011-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ysse_writes/pseuds/ysse_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One scene, two points of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers: Shin Kidousenki Gundam Wing is trademark and property of Sunrise, Bandai, Sotsu Agency, and associated companies. The characters and situations of Gundam Wing are copyrighted and property of are of Sunrise, Bandai, Sotsu Agency, and associated companies. They have been used without permission, with no mean intent or desire for remuneration. No copyright infringement is intended. Still, please don’t use, forward or archive this story without permission

I touch you and you come alive. This is a mystery to me, how my hands, which have dealt so much death, move you so differently. As if there was some power there, some spark of electricity, some magic. I touch you and your face changes, somehow no longer cold and immoveable. I trace the end of my finger to the tip of your nose and suddenly, your eyes, already so blue, intensify, illuminate. Sometimes in annoyance, sometimes in amusement, and sometimes in wonder. This tickles me; that you, who know everything about everything, can look at me and look stumped. That as stalwart and stoic as you are, as they've created you to be, I can break through, mess you up, dismantle your defenses with one finger.

And we're not even talking what I can do with the rest of me.

This flows both ways, this strange electricity, this chemistry. But not equally, for as powerful as my hands, my mouth, my entire body can be, you defeat me hands down. As you come alive under me, you transfer that life to me, reaching deep, filling me.

You fill me, and if I ever manage the courage to tell you this and you snort or laugh or look at me blankly I will kill you. I will kill you and I will never let anything inside me again. Ever. Sometimes my stomach churns with words I can't say, feelings I can't quite acknowledge. I never lie, and if you asked me, I would tell you these things. But you never ask. You are content with the wonder, the confusion, content with these nights, these moments in between what we are and what we have to be. You never thought I'd be such a chickenshit, did you? Of all my faults, you never counted cowardice as one of them. But it is. I hide and I run away. But I never lie.

If you asked, I would tell you that I don't believe in a lot of things. But I believe in you. I would tell you that you, too, have the power, to make me stop and wonder. I would tell you that when you touch me, I have to hold myself still and clench my teeth or I'll explode. I'd tell you that I can't remember when you weren't there, and I can't imagine you being gone. And that's something I don't understand. Everyone dies, right? And you and me, we live each breath, never counting on the next one. We count our nows; if we're being optimistic we count our todays. Tomorrow, it's as far as we can see. As far as we can dream. Father Maxwell once told me that this life is a test, we live it the best we can, and our rewards will come in the next life. I can't imagine a next life, just this one. And as far as rewards go, I have you.

I have you. Whatever I can have of you, for as long as I can have you. Something tells me, it won't be enough.

But if someday comes and I'm still here, all I ask is you'll still be here, too. With me.

And that someday, some night as you lie quiet under me, pinning me with my own hair, I'll be brave enough tell you, even without you asking.

Someday I'll let the tears you fill me with fall.

 

 

I do not understand why you are here, why you want to be. I've seen you, rolling on the floor laughing, not even the Chang's threats of a drawn-out and excruciating death, for some reason carrying so much more weight than mine, quieting your mirth. I've seen you rush into the middle of a battle, outnumbered twelve to one, your eyes gleaming with purple, unholy glee, afraid of nothing. And I've seen you in full temper tantrum, your eyes and your hair crackling with electricity, truly a sight to behold. A god, as relentless and irrepressible as a storm.

And yet, I touch you and you grow still under my hand, a tempest calming. I can feel the life, the energy, thrumming under my fingertips, restless and impatient, and yet pliant and acquiescent. Traveling that expanse of skin, you sigh and you arch your body, offering it up to me, vulnerable, expectant.

Why?

I do not have the words you need and I feel as if each time I touch you is a disservice. Like I have hobbled some great beast, caged some mythical creature. And I don't know if I deserve it but I can't let go. You tell me this is what you want and I believe you, because you never lie. And I have to believe that you are strong enough, because I want to give you more but I don't know how. Or even if I am capable of it. I open my mouth and nothing comes out. They drilled so many things into me, but nothing so vital as how to tell you, how to show you. I don't have the words.

I would like to tell you that everything I know of beauty, you taught me. That in the heat of battle your laughter cuts through me, keeping me from losing myself. That when I'm in Wing, in space, with a billion stars before me, all I see are your eyes. And that when my breath catches, or when I feel this tiny twinge in my chest cavity, I know it's okay. Because you're there, in that place, filling it to overflowing.

I would like to tell you, you're the only thing that keeps me warm.

I would like to tell you that I was created, made to live and die for the mission. But beyond the mission, I have you.

I have you. With your heart bigger than the Universe, that you were stupid and brave enough to place into my hands.

Baka. Brave, beautiful, braided baka.  And I've never even said thank you.

Never said I loved you.

But someday, some night when I've managed to make you too exhausted to chatter or found some other, more effective way of shutting you up for more than a few moments, when you lie quiet in my arms, listening to the heart you've made beat...

Someday, I will.

 **The End**

 

Copyright [JCSA](mailto:jcsalbano@gmail.com) 2002


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